


A Shared Philosophy

by StillWaters



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, First Meetings, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-02 23:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5268605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StillWaters/pseuds/StillWaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A chance meeting marks the beginning of an odd relationship that will change several lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Encounters

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings. I know. I have too many projects on my plate already. I even have parts of those projects written in my head and some even on paper or open office documents. So, why am I working on something else? Because the Muse demands it. 'It's a little, short one-shot,' she told me. Yeah, right. It ended up at something like 50 pages. I figured I'd post a little bit, hope someone likes it, cry if no one does, put some more up, cry if no one likes, and repeat until it's done. ;-)
> 
> Then, maybe I can get something else written. Hopefully, one of my other in progress stories and not this other little idea that's started niggling at me (Please, Muse. I promise, I'll work on it later)
> 
> Oh. Not connected with any of my other stories.

A Shared Philosophy

Chicago, Illinois, 1990

Nick Fury stood on the roof of the apartment building, surveying the area around him, seeking the best vantage point. All was quiet for the moment.

SHIELD had gotten information that some stolen top secret intel was being exchanged in this area and they were eager to find out who was buying. His job was to wait and watch and place a tracking device on the buyer if at all possible.

And he would make it possible. He had been rapidly climbing the ranks and had his sights set on the top of the organization. Not a position earned by doing a half-ass job.

As the sun dropped low, he continued watching, ready to wait as long as he needed.

Voices in an alley below him drew his attention. He crept to the edge of the building and peered over.

Three boys in their early teens had another, slightly smaller boy pushed up against the wall. They formed a semi-circle around him, cutting off any avenue of escape. Every time he moved, one of the others would shove him back against the wall.

Though he couldn't make out the words, the tones of the voices were enough to let him know that it wasn't a friendly gathering. He continued watching, wondering if perhaps this was a diversion to distract his attention from the drop.

Another sweep of the area showed no movement on the rooftops.

Still, he hesitated. As much as he would like to help the kid out, he had a job to do.

It happened. Kids got in fights. They got beat up. It had certainly happened to him enough back in the streets of Hell's Kitchen.

"Hey! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" a voice challenged from the alley. Nick looked down again to see the new addition to the scene.

The girl was probably about 8 years old. Her dark hair was pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, shorts and short sleeved t-shirt providing little protection against the cooling night air. Her arms and legs looked thin. Scrawny even, but the determination on her face and the fists planted firmly on her hips spoke of inner strength.

The three junior thugs turned their attention to her briefly, then laughed.

"What would be the fun in that?" one of them asked.

"I don't think Jeremy's having much fun," she retorted, nodding towards the other boy.

"Sure he is," one of his tormentors disagreed. "Aren't you, Jeremy?"

He pushed the smaller boy again.

"Let him go," the girl growled, teeth clenched.

"Or what?"

"Just do it," she told them.

With their attention on the girl, Jeremy took advantage of their momentary distraction to push past his attackers and make a dash for the street. Unfortunately in doing so, he bumped into the girl and knocked her to the pavement.

"Run, kid," Nick muttered under his breath, taking his eyes from the scene below just long enough to check the rooftops again.

Still clear.

When he looked back, the biggest of the boys had grabbed the girl by her thin arm and pulled her to her feet. He angrily shoved her against the wall.

"He owed us, kid. Since he's not here to pay up, I guess you'll have to do."

He drew his fist back and punched her in the stomach.

She grimaced, but didn't cry out.

One of the other boys followed with a slap across her face.

She kicked out suddenly, catching the first boy in the shin. While he grabbed his leg, the third boy reached for her, only to have her bite down on his arm.

He threw her against the wall again, her head bouncing hard against the brick. As she shook her head to clear the cobwebs, one of them punched her again, finally driving her to her knees. They moved in closer, kicking at her. Even as she curled to protect herself, she grabbed at their feet, trying to bring them down.

Nick had seen enough.

As much as he would hate to miss the switch, he couldn't stand idly by and watch this. Fixing a grappling hook to a pipe on the building roof, he quickly rappelled down the side of the building. He landed silently behind the group, then cleared his throat.

One of the boys turned and caught sight of him and froze.

He grabbed at his buddies and all three stared.

Dressed in solid black t-shirt, cargo pants, and combat boots, Nick knew he looked frightening. The boys watched the muscles in his arms ripple as he reached to adjust the rifle slung over his shoulder, then tapped at the knife on his belt.

"I'm not your size either," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Would you like to try that on me?"

He followed up with a glare.

One of the boys finally broke, making a run for it.

Nick took a step forward, arms crossed at his chest.

A second boy took off.

Another step forward. Almost toe to toe, Nick looked down at the leader.

"So you want to go mano a mano?" he asked,

Shaking his head, the boy moved to slip around him. Nick shifted, blocking his path.

"I asked you a question, dirtbag," He thought it best to tone down his language around the kid. "I expect a proper answer."

"No," the boy finally squeaked out.

"No, what?"

"No, sir," he managed.

He continued glaring at the youngster as he waited, his face pale and his lower lip trembling. Slowly, he started sidling carefully around the older man. Finally, he took a deep breath and broke in to a run, leaving the alley in record time.

Nick smiled briefly, before remembering the girl.

He turned and knelt beside her. He checked her breathing and pulse, relieved to find both. His mind searched for options, but he couldn't seem to think of many.

Leaving her there where she was wasn't an option. Too risky.

The best one seemed to be taking her with him. Carefully, he slid his hands underneath her, lifting her small form and drawing her close.

She moaned softly.

"Sorry, kid," he whispered to her. "I know it hurts, but you're safe now."

Holding her carefully, he hit the button on his grappling gun to pull himself back to the rooftop. He quickly looked around again, releasing the breath he had been holding. It seemed that nothing had changed. Hopefully, the few minutes he had been gone hadn't been long enough for the exchange.

He looked down at the girl to find her looking up at him with crystal blue eyes. He started to reassure her, but realized that her expression was one of curiosity, not fear. Putting a finger to his lips to indicate the need for silence, he waited for her to nod, then made a circuit of the roof.

When he returned, she sat right where he had left her, arms wrapped around her thin legs. Even in the low light, he could see the chill bumps and the slight shivers she was trying to suppress. He reached into his bag and pulled out a jacket and tossed it to her.

She looked for a moment like she might argue, but he glared down at her. Finally, she dipped her head in a small nod, then wrapped the too large garment around herself.

The building was the tallest in the area, and offered the best view of the area and the small building that housed electrical equipment would give him even more height.

He considered. He should probably send the girl on her way. The problem was, he had a job to do and he wasn't entirely comfortable with letting her wander off on her own. Between the injuries she might have suffered and the boys who might still be looking to cause her problems, she might not be safe.

He could keep her with him. Someone was probably concerned about her. But if that was the case, why had she been out here alone and so under dressed for the weather?

She wandered over to where he stood and pointed towards the roof of the maintenance building, a questioning look on her face. When he nodded, she reached up expectantly, then looked at him. Instead of picking her up, he linked his fingers together to form a stirrup. She stepped in and he lifted her up until she caught the edge and pulled herself over the edge.

He grimaced, knowing the movement would not be comfortable on her injuries. After several moments, she leaned over and reached down. He handed up his bag, supporting it's weight as long as he could. When she leaned over again, offering a hand to help him up, he waved her back, then took a short running leap to grasp the edge and pull himself over.

He was happy to see that a short wall surrounded the top of the small building, offering a little more concealment. He looked around, then nodded his satisfaction. The girl studied him, then also looked around and offered an agreeing nod.

He unzipped his bag and pulled out a telescopic lens that he carefully attached to his rifle. Once it was secure, he put it up to his eye, making a sweep of the area to be sure he could see everything. Satisfied, he lowered it and looked back at the girl.

She was staring into his bag with wide eyes. At first he thought she might be bothered by the firearms, but he finally realized that her gaze was fastened on the wrapped protein bars. Taking one out, he offered it to her. Though her eyes said 'yes,' she shook her head.

Stubborn kid.

Time for a little acting. He opened it and pinched off a bite and put it in his mouth. After a moment, he made a face and looked at the wrapper. Pointing at the flavor, 'Oatmeal raisin,' he made a gagging motion and shook his head.

Again, he offered it to her, his eyebrows raised. Slowly, she reached out, taking it from him. As she waited, he dug into the bag to find a different flavor. When he started eating, she did as well.

As the darkness continued to deepen, they sat side by side, watching and waiting. She tapped him on the arm and pointed when a man walked onto the roof of a nearby building. He watched, but shook his head when the man lit up a cigarette. Once he had finished it, he went back in the building.

It wasn't long until they heard footsteps on the stairs of the building they were on. Nick stretched out on his stomach, peaking over the edge to watch. The girl flattened out next to him, ducking when he motioned for her to keep her head down.

He watched as the figure walked out onto the rooftop and looked around. Satisfied that he was alone, he walked into the shadow and slid the case he carried into into a small alcove. Nick ducked down as he turned and walked back toward the stairwell door. After another look around, he slipped through the door.

After several moments, Nick started to get up. The girl reached out a put her hand on his arm to get his attention. When he looked down at her, she shook her head, then pointed to her ear. He didn't quite understand, but decided to trust her.

Moments later, the door opened again and the courier looked around. When the door closed again, he heard what she realized they hadn't heard before: footsteps going down the stairs. He looked over at her and smiled, giving her a thumbs up.

After several more minutes, he sat up, motioning for her to stay put as he slid down to the roof. Crossing to where the case was hidden, he attached a tiny tracking device and activated it, then returned to his spot next to the girl.

As they continued waiting, he observed her, watching for any signs that her injuries were serious. He also worried about the whole situation, hoping that he wouldn't find himself in trouble with her parents or the police. She seemed unconcerned by the situation or the late hour, sitting wrapped in his jacket as she looked around.

Eventually, they heard approaching footsteps again and both stretched out flat again. The figure wasted no time crossing to where the case waited. Nick quickly reached into his bag and pulled out a small gun. The girl watched him with wide eyes. He smiled slightly, trying to reassure her.

He peered over the edge, pointing the device at the man's back and fired off two quick shots. He nodded in satisfaction, then ducked back down. They listened to the steps of the man crossing the roof again, then opening the door and heading down the stairs.

After waiting several more minutes, he sat up and started putting his stuff back in his bag. He held the small gun out to her.

"Shoots a miniature tracking device," he explained.

She leaned over to study it, then nodded.

When he had everything repacked, he slid over the edge. The girl lowered his bag, then herself. He caught her easily, setting her on her feet then led her down the stairs and into an empty apartment. He turned the lights on low, then lifted her onto the kitchen counter.

"Nick," he told her, holding out a hand.

She studied him for a few moments, then placed her hand in his.

"Maria."

"Your family is probably worried about you," he commented, pulling a small first aid kit from his bag.

She shook her head as he went to work, cleaning up the scrapes on her knees and hands, then gently treating the ones on her face.

"Dad's probably passed...asleep. Doesn't even know I'm not there. He works hard and needs a lot of rest," she explained.

"And your mom?"

"Dead."

Once the obvious injuries were treated, he stepped back and looked at her. He looked her in the eye.  
"I know your dad and your teachers have probably talked to you about being cautious around strangers and particularly about letting strangers touch you, especially under your clothes."

She nodded cautiously.

"Those boys hit and kicked you in the stomach and ribs pretty hard and we need to be sure that they didn't hurt you inside," he explained. "I can take you home and your dad can check you over." She shook her head. "Or I can take you to a hospital."

He knew that was probably the best option, but he also knew what was likely to happen if someone who looked like him walked into the hospital with an injured little girl that looked like her.

Again, she shook her head.

"Or I can check you out. I've had some medical training." At the very least, he could assess if he needed to insist she go to the hospital.

She looked him in the eye, finally nodding. He helped her take the jacket off, then watched her face as he reached out to touch her. He started by palpitating her belly, To his relief, it wasn't hard, indicating bleeding into the abdomen.

Moving up to her ribs, he pressed lightly, watching her face for signs of pain. She winced slightly, but quickly hid the reaction. Her breathing sounded good.

He stepped back. "I need to to lift you shirt up. Just a little. I need to see your stomach and your side right here," he told her, pointing to the area that had caused the reaction.

She did so, keeping a close watch on him. Hands clasped behind his back, he leaned down to look. He could see bruises starting to form, but didn't think that there was any internal damage or broken ribs.

He nodded and straightened. "Thanks. I think you'll be sore for a few days, but I don't think they did any permanent damage," he told her.

"Good. Thanks for everything," she told him.

Packing up his first aid kit, he looked at her questioningly. "So, why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Take on three boys who were all twice your size."

"They weren't that big," she protested.

"Maybe not, but they were all bigger than you. You could have been badly hurt. And the boy you were trying to help ran away and left you to fend for yourself."

She shrugged. "Jeremy gets picked on a lot. He runs away when he can, but I guess they caught him this time."

"But why did you step in?" he repeated.

She lifted her chin and looked him in the eyes. "Because I don't like bullies," she answered.

His laugh barked. "That's kind of the motto of the people I work with," he told her.

"Good motto," she replied with a nod.

He checked around, making certain that he had collected all evidence of their presence, wrapped his jacket around her again and set her back on the floor.

"Let's get you home," he told her as he led her to the door.

"I'll be fine," she told him, moving to take the jacket off.

"I'm sure you will be, but I'm walking you home," he answered. She started to argue, but stopped when he leveled a glare at her. "It's what a gentleman does."

She shrugged. "It's not far, but whatever."

He motioned for her to lead the way and she did.

They walked along in silence for several minutes.

"What are you going to tell your dad about what happened to you?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"You don't think he might be curious about the scrapes and bruises?"

"Nah. If he even notices, he'll just figure he did it himself," she shrugged.

He stopped, squatting next to her and turned her to face him. "Does he do that often, Maria? Does he hurt you often?"

"No," she hastened to reassure him. "Not often at all. Only one or two times, really. Once. And he didn't mean to. It was my fault. I fell." She spoke quickly, watching his face to see how he reacted.

"Because there are people who can help," he told her gently.

She nodded, then suddenly turned and took off running. Cursing under his breath, Nick jumped up and ran after her. In spite of her head start, his longer legs soon brought him even with her. He snaked out an arm, grabbing her around the waist.

He felt bad when she gasped from the pain of his contact with her bruised ribs, but he didn't want her disappearing on him.

"It's okay," he reassured her softly as he repositioned her to keep the pressure off the sore areas. "Calm down. Everything's going to be okay."

She was gasping for breath. "Please don't call CPS, Nick," she begged.

"Why not, Maria? If he's hurting you, they can help."

"No, they won't," she answered. "They've come before. When I broke my arm, the doctor at the hospital called them and there was a someone in the neighborhood that called them another time."

"What happened?"

"They talked to us, looked around, and said everything looked fine. But it made him really mad and that's not good."

She stared at him intently. "Really. It's okay. Everything's fine. Promise me you won't call them."

"I can't make that promise," he told her. "I won't leave you in a dangerous situation. But I won't rush to judgment. I'll keep an eye on things and act only if necessary."

"That's what they said, too," she muttered softly.

Suddenly, she gasped and looked down at her hand. He did likewise. In her anxiety, she had twisted a button on his jacket until the the thread had given way and the gold metal circle now rested in the palm of her hand.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Nick."

"It's okay," he assured her.

"No, it's not. You let me wear your jacket and I tore it up. I'm so sorry," she was fighting back the tears. "If you got a needle and thread in your bag, I can fix it," she told him. "I sew things up all the time for me and my dad,"

"Don't worry about it," he said again. "I rarely wear that anyway and usually don't have it buttoned up when I do." He reached out, closing her hand around the button. "In fact, why don't you keep it as a momento of tonight."

She looked at it a moment, then shook her head. "Not a good idea. My dad might find it and wonder about where it came from," she told him, handing it back to him.

Nick accepted it, wondering about a man who would be more curious about a button than he would about his daughter's injuries. He mentally reaffirmed his promise to keep an eye on things.

As they continued walking, he noticed a small diner with the lights still on. "You hungry?" he asked.

She shook her head, but he noticed her breathing deeply, inhaling the tantalizing smell.

"I am. Come keep me company," he said, motioning for her to follow him. He knew he was taking a risk, letting someone see them together, but decided it was worth it to get some food in her.

When they entered the place, she slid into a booth while he stepped to the counter and placed an order. Waiting for it to be prepared, he watched the girl. She folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them. Though she was looking out the window, he had little doubt that she was watching him in the reflection as well.

When he sat down, he sat a burger, fries, and hot chocolate in front of her.

"Two for special," he told her.

After watching him for several minutes, she finally tentatively reached out and took a fry. She eyed him as she put it in her mouth as though expecting him to grab it away or start yelling at her. When he didn't react, she started nibbling at the burger, sighing in contentment.

He finished his meal, then sat back and watched her as he drank his coffee. When her burger was about half eaten, she pushed it away and looked at him.

"Guess I was a little bit hungry."

"Guess so," he replied, starting to gather his trash. He pointed towards her uneaten food. "You done with that?"

"Um." She chewed at her lip. Before she could answer, he stood, discarding his trash before walking back to the counter. When he returned, he handed her a styrofoam container.

"Why don't you take the rest of it home for later?"

With a nod of thanks, she carefully placed her leftovers in the box, then the two headed back out onto the street. They walked side by side, both comfortable with the silence.

"That's my building," she told him, pointing at a crumbling old building, well past it's prime. "I can make it on my own from here."

Nick shrugged. "It's not a problem. Might as well see you safely inside."

She sighed, her steps slowing as she approached an alley. She stopped, peering into the darkness.

"Cedric?" she whispered. A dark form moved, separating from the shadows and approached.

"What you doin' out at this hour, girl?" the raggedly dressed man asked in a raspy voice. He looked past her at man standing behind her. "Everything all right?"

"Just fine," she assured him. "I brought you something." She held out the leftovers from her dinner. "Just a burger and some fries, but they should still be warm."

He smiled at her, revealing a mouthful of stained teeth and reached out to pat her on the head. "You're a good kid," he told her.

"Whatever," she responded, walking away as the man disappeared back into the alley.

Nick followed her into the building and up the stairs to the third floor. He watched as she turned the knob. When it didn't turn, her shoulders slumped.

"Locked out?" he asked.

"Nah. I should be able to go up the fire escape and get in through the window," she told him.

"No need." He pulled a tool out of his pocket, unfolding a slender pick. Kneeling in front of the door, he inserted it in the lock . Within a few seconds, her turned the knob, pushing the door opened. She poked her head in, looking around, then quietly crept into the room.

Nick's gaze traveled the room, taking in the worn furniture, stacked papers, overflowing ashtrays, and empty beer cans before coming to rest on the man snoring loudly on the stained couch.

"He works really hard," the girl explained in a whisper.

'Drinks really hard is more like it,' Nick thought, breathing in the stench of alcohol.

She was home and as safe as ever and he knew it was time for him to leave, but he found himself oddly reluctant to do so. He turned and headed back to the door, Maria following close behind. She shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to him. He took it, squatting in front of her.

"Thanks for your help tonight," he told her.

"Thank you for everything," she replied.

"You be sure and tell your dad or someone it your stomach or ribs get to hurting too bad," he reminded her. "I don't think you have internal injuries, but I can't say for sure."

She nodded, then awkwardly stuck out her hand. He shook it solemnly, then rose and slipped out the front door.

"Lock it behind me," he commanded, then waited in the hallway until he heard it click. Satisfied, he headed back down the hallway and exited the building.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The changes begin for a certain little girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for kudos and comments. They make me happy.

Back at the local SHIELD offices, he filled out his paperwork, wondering why that seemed to take longer than the mission itself. Once that was completed, he logged onto the computer system and did a little research, then took to the hallways.

Between his reputation and his intimidating appearance, he caused a lot of nervousness, studying the faces of those he passed and looking through opened doors at employees as work at their desks. He wasn't sure exactly who he was looking for, but figured he would know them when he found them.

Not having had any luck, he stopped in a break room to refresh his coffee. The man standing at the machine looked up at him and smiled, then held the pot out.

"Need a warm up?"

"Please," Nick replied, holding out his cup as he studied the other man.

He was quite average in appearance. Average height and weight. Brown eyes, brown hair, starting to recede slightly. He was dressed like 90 percent of the men in the building in a dark suit, light shirt, and nondescript tie.

He filled Nick's cup, showing no sign of nervousness at the man's probing gaze.

"Phil Coulson," he introduced himself.

"Fury."

"You have the look of a man on a mission, Fury. Something I can help you with?" he asked.

"Maybe," Nick commented, eying the other man. "You based here in Chicago?"

Phil nodded. "Primarily. I do some traveling, but I'm here on a pretty regular basis."

When the dark skinned man hesitated, he continued. "If I can't help you, I can probably point you towards someone who can."

Nick made his decision. "Got a few minutes?" he asked, motioning towards the table.

In response, Phil took a seat. The other man settled across from him.

"I was on a job last night and I met someone."

"Oh?" Coulson's brows rose slightly.

"A girl."

"Oh." He looked disappointed.

"Not like that. I really mean a girl. She's probably about 8 years old." He proceeded to tell Phil about his meeting the night before with Maria.

"I'd just like for someone to keep an eye on her situation. Maybe check in on her every week or two," Nick concluded, looking at the other man.

"Did you think about involving CPS?"

"I mentioned them," Nick told him, "and she took off on me. Apparently, they've been out a time or two and haven't done anything. I figure the folks here are pretty much like those back where I grew up. Overworked, underpaid. Stretched way too thin."

Phil nodded agreement. "If they remove a kid, they're accused of overreacting, if they don't, they're accused of not doing their job."

"I told her that I'd keep an eye on things and only call them in if needed. Problem is, I'm not around enough to monitor her like I'd like to."

Coulson eyed him. "This kid really got to you."

"Don't know that I'd say that, exactly," Nick replied with a shrug.

Phil's mouth twitched.

"Okay. Maybe. Just a little." He sat back in the chair. "I asked her why she was willing to fight three boys, even though the smallest of them was still bigger than her. You know what she said?"

"What did she say?"

Nick smiled at the memory. "She said that she doesn't like bullies."

Phil laughed out loud. "Sounds like a future SHIELD agent."

"Maybe. Anyway. I was thinking that someone here could keep an eye on her situation. Call CPS or even just take her away if she's in danger. I've set up a bank account for someone to make sure she has what she needs. School supplies. Proper clothing. Pay for her lunches at school if needed." He shrugged again. "I don't know. Whatever kind of things a kid that age needs. Maybe a few things she just might want. I just liked her spirit and think she deserves a bit of a break."

Phil nodded. "Sounds good. Just give me the information and I'll take care of your kid."

Nick looked at him. "You sure? You said you travel some."

"I do, but I think I know a couple of people who I can count on to help me out with this. One of them is a woman, so she might be helpful when it comes to knowing what a little girl might need."

After several more moments of study, Nick grabbed some paper and a pen. He wrote out the information he had on the girl as well as his own contact information.

"Keep me updated on what's going on with her, if you don't mind. And let me know if you need more funds or it there's anything I need to do," he told the other man.

"You got it, Fury," Phil nodded, tucking the note it his breast pocket.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was a couple of days later before Maria Hill began to discover how much that chance encounter would change her life. While classmates were talking and playing around before class started, she took her seat and lifted the lid of her desk to get a pencil for the morning math drill.

She reached in, then froze.

Lowered the top and looked around.

No one seemed to be paying attention to her.

She considered. Someone had taken the battered, duct-taped tissue box her father had filled with stubby pencils and broken crayons. She peeked in again. It had been replace with a bright blue plastic box with a red, white, and blue design on it.

'A shield of some sort, maybe, with a star in the middle?" she thought.

Next to it was a brand new box of crayons. Not one of the little 8 count boxes either. It was one of the big ones, with a built in sharpener.

Clearly, someone had put it in her desk. They would probably accuse her of stealing it. Looking around again, she pulled the box close. Maybe there was a name inside it and she could slip it back in their desk without being seen.

Easing it opened, she took a moment to admire the dozen or so freshly sharpened pencils it held, their erasers unmarked, then turned her attention to the sticker inside the box.

Property of Maria Hill

Ms Aldrin's 3rd Grade Class

Lincoln Elementary

Why was her name on there?

Smiling slightly, she made a closer study of the items in the box. In addition to the pencils, there was a package of colored pencils, a couple of pink erasers, several of the kind that go on the end of the pencils, a couple of glue sticks, and a pair of scissors.

And a round, metal button.

Nick.

"I need everyone in their seats and ready to math," Ms Aldrin called, clapping her hands together to get the attention of her third grade class.

Maria grabbed one of the pencils and settled back in her seat.

It was going to be a good day.

The next surprise came at lunchtime. When the class arrived in the lunchroom, those who brought their lunches went to the table while the others moved through the line to get their trays. Brown bag in hand, Maria took her seat at the table. She placed her sandwich on a napkin while she carefully folded the paper bag and plastic sandwich bag. They would need to be reused for as long as they lasted.

While the others at the table were examining their lunches, some with delight, some with groans, Maria knew exactly what was in hers.

The same thing it was every day.

Every morning, she got two pieces of bread from the loaf. Sometimes, her dad was there watching her, but even when he wasn't she knew exactly what was allowed. While she smeared one piece with just enough peanut butter to cover it, then folded it in half, the other piece went into the toaster.

When her dad was in a particularly foul mood, he might turn the dial all the way to 'dark' setting, resulting in hard, black toast. The one time she had protested, he had grabbed her arm and held it against the hot metal.

After that, she had learned to quietly choke down the dry toast each morning, no matter how burned it might be.

"Can't have those interfering school people accusing me of not giving my kid breakfast," he grumbled.

She felt someone staring at her and looked up to meet her teacher's gaze. She was standing next to one of the cafeteria workers and both were staring at Maria. The other woman pointed to something on a piece of paper, then handed a tray to Ms Aldrin. After a few more moments of discussion, the teacher walked over to the table and set the tray down in front of the girl.

Maria looked at her, confused.

"What's that for?"

"For you."

"I brought my own lunch," she said, pointing at her sandwich.

"I know," the teacher told her, "but the lady in charge of the cafeteria said that her records show that your lunch has been paid for."

The girl studied the tray. A small piece of chicken, some rice, mixed vegetables, a bowl of sliced peaches, and a carton of milk. It looked much more appetizing than what she had pulled from her brown paper bag.

"For the rest of the year," the woman finished. Maria's eyes went wide. "Breakfasts, too."

After carefully wrapping her sandwich in a napkin, she dug into the meal, cleaning every morsel from the tray. She couldn't understand why some of the kids complained about cafeteria food. It was one of the best meals she had ever had.

Even if her dinners were lacking, having two decent meals a day was more than she had ever had. Her daily peanut butter sandwiches were offered to Cedric on her way home each day. It wasn't much, but he always accepted with delighted appreciation.

Several days later, she became aware of the next change. She was walking home from school. Many of her classmates boarded vans, heading off to various afterschool programs. The school sent home flyers about dance, gymnastics, music, and martial arts classes. The first ones, she had presented to her father, a hopeful look on her face.

He snorted, crumpling them up and throwing them at her.

"You think I'd waste my hard earned money on fun for a useless waste of flesh like you?"

She never gave him the papers again, but that didn't stop her from peeking longingly into the window of the martial arts studio she walked passed. Today, a man was standing outside, an impatient look on his face as he watched people passing. When he spotted her, he motioned urgently.

She approached warily.

"Maria Hill?" he asked, looking down at a clipboard he held.

She nodded.

"Come on. You need to hurry. Class is about to start." He opened the door and waited.

"I'm not in a class," she told him.

He looked at his clipboard again.

"Yes, you are. Your Uncle Nick registered you today. You're a late enrollment, so you'll be behind, but the teacher was assured that you're a quick study and should catch up in no time." When she hesitated, he tapped at his clipboard. "You still need to get changed. Your uniform is in your locker. Carleen can show you the way," he told her, pointing to a woman stretching on one of the mats.

After considering a moment longer, she shrugged and entered the building. It was probably a mistake, but why not enjoy it while it lasted. She watched and listened attentively when Carleen showed her the facilities, explaining that classes met twice weekly before guiding her to a locker where she could store her belongings, then helping her don her uniform.

The class went quickly and Maria found herself enjoying the time spent there. In the weeks that followed, she indeed worked hard and quickly mastered the skills to bring her to the same level as her classmates and even surpass some.

The students were all excited when the teacher announced they would have belt testing and presentations, though Maria's joy dimmed when they were told to invite parents and family members to attend the ceremony.

When the day came, her classmates were excitedly waving to people in the audience, and posing for pictures. Maria didn't bother even looking, knowing that there would be no one there for her.

When her turn came, there was a smattering of polite applause from the crowd as she took her position. The teacher put her through her paces and she threw herself completely into each and every step. When he was finished, she bowed respectfully. He smiled very slightly, nodding his head to express his satisfaction with her performance.

Loud applause startled her, but she managed to stop herself from reacting. Once he had tied her new belt on, she turned to face the audience, her eyes searching to the source of the claps and whistles. Her gaze finally rested on a big, dark skinned man.

Nick.

He was sitting silently, arms crossed on his chest. Next to him, two men and a woman sat. Both men wore dark suits, white shirts, and ties. One had thinning hair, the other was bald and had glasses. Both were smiling and clapping loudly. The woman sitting between them was attractive, her Asian features sporting a more subdued smile. When she noticed Maria's gaze, she stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out a piercing whistle. The man between her and Nick looked at her in surprise, then laughed and elbowed Nick.

After holding Maria's gaze for several moments, Nick nodded. Somehow, she knew is was approval.

Next came the winter coat.

The weather turned from cool to cold and Maria's father finally pulled out her winter coat. It had been picked out of the lost and found box at his work a couple of years ago. It was torn in a couple of places and the zipper was broken, but he deemed it good for another winter. With a hooded sweatshirt underneath it and a rope tied around the middle to keep it closed, he gave her a couple of pairs of his old socks to wear as gloves and sent her off to school.

After about a week, a door to one of the apartments off the lobby opened one morning at she was trying to get up the nerve to head out into the cold. An old woman poked her head out, glaring at the girl. A small dog yapped at her feet.

"Girl!" she snapped.

Maria looked over at her. Mrs. Crowley had lived there forever and kept an eagle eye on the goings on in the building lobby and front. Some of the kids in the neighborhood claimed that she was a witch and dared each other to knock at her door.

"Come here, girl," she motioned. "I've got something of yours."

Swallowing hard, Maria followed her into the apartment. The woman looked at her. "Your father's sending you to school dressed like that?" she asked scornfully.

"It's fine," Maria replied defensively.

"No, it's not," the woman snapped back. "Not nearly warm enough for this weather."

"The cold doesn't really bother me," the girl protested again.

Mrs. Crowley shook her head and pointed to a cardboard box sitting on her coffee table.

Puzzled, Maria opened it and started pulling things out. The first item was a forest green down coat. It had a soft, fleece lining and cream colored fur around the hood. Next was a pair of soft, knitted mittens, matching scarf and hat. She looked at them longingly, but shook her head.

"I can't accept this," she told the woman.

She cackled. "You don't think this is from me, do you?"

Maria shrugged.

"Found this box at my front door last night," she explained. "Note said it was for you."

"I can't," she said again. "My dad..."

"There was also a pound of my favorite coffee and the dog food that the vet says Charley should be on," she said, looking down at the little dog. "And it's the good stuff, not the kind we can afford on my retirement funds. The note said we'd get more every month as long as we keep this for you. You stop here in the morning, leave that stuff here and wear proper winter gear to school, then stop by and trade everything back when you come home."

"But what if you're not here?"

"I'm always here, girl. It's not like I have anywhere else to go."

Before the girl could protest again, the woman started untying the rope that was holding her coat in place. "You need to hurry it up. Don't want to be late."

She finally surrendered, allowing the woman to help her get changed into the new garments.

Throughout the winter, the daily routine continued, Maria making twice daily stops at the neighbors apartment to change out her cold weather gear.

XXXXXXXXXX

While the other students looked forward to winter break, Maria didn't. Her dad's moods were always worse over the holidays. He drank more, slept more, and yelled more. She did her best to simply stay out of his way.

Christmas day itself was it's usual nightmare. While other children laid awake Christmas eve, waiting anxiously for Santa, she couldn't sleep because of another tradition in her home.

In the wee small early hours of the morning, her father came into her room, grabbing her arm and jerking her roughly out of bed. He drug her into the living room and threw her roughly into a chair.

"Merry freaking Christmas, you stupid little bitch," he told her with a sneer. "I can't believe I lost my wife and got stuck with you instead. She loved Christmas. I loved it when she was here. Now, I've hate it and I hate you because you took that from me."

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she whispered.

"Sorry, Daddy," he mimicked. "Yeah, you are. Sorry and useless." He glared at her. "Get me a beer," he told her.

She jumped up and ran into the kitchen, grabbing a can from the refrigerator and hurrying back to hand it to him.

"What took you so long?" he growled, taking the can from her before backhanding her. She bit her lip, fighting not to cry as she rubbed her sore cheek. Slowly, she make her way back to the chair. She knew better than to try to go back to her room. When she had tried that a couple of years back, he had followed her, screaming at her about walking away from him. Then, he had given her one of the worst beatings ever.

This turned out to be one of the better Christmases she could remember. She watched closely, making sure to have a fesh beer for him each time he emptied one, and listened without speaking at he rambled on about how she had ruined his life.

About midday, he stumbled back to his room, returning with a bottle of harder stuff. On his way back to the couch, he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her over to him. He studied her face as she struggled not to flinch from his alcohol laden breath. With a disgusted grunt, he pushed her away, causing her to fall over the debris strewn coffee table. His bottle fell over, spilling some of the foul smelling liquid onto the floor before he could grab it up.

"Now look what you've done!" he yelled, jumping up. He stepped across the overturned table and kicked at her. He was tipsy enough not to land a full force blow on her, but still hard enough to leave a few more bruises.

"Clean this mess up," he told her, falling back into his seat.

She hurried to do so before returning quietly to her seat. Even when he passed out, she stayed where she was, only daring quick dashes to the bathroom when absolutely necessary. Finally, she allowed herself to drift off as well.

A busted lip and a half a dozen or so new bruises,. Nothing broken. Definitely a good Christmas.

By the time she returned to school, the split lip had healed and the visible bruises had faded enough to prevent uncomfortable questions. Days settled back into normal routine. The best days, of course, were the ones where she went from school to martial arts classes. She continued to make excellent progress, her focus and determination pushing her to achieve.

Winter turned to spring and the weather began to warm. One afternoon, a massive storm moved in as she was walking home, the skies opened as thunder boomed and lightening streaked the sky. She ducked into a doorway, trying to avoid the drenching. The wind, though, drove the rain in after her.

As she watched the storm, wondering what to do, a car pulled up to the curb and stopped, the driver's side window rolling down.

"Maria!" a voice called.

She recognized the man who had been sitting next to Nick at her belt ceremony.

He jumped out, umbrella in hand, and crossed over to her.

"Come on," he told her, taking her book bag and heading back to the car. He opened the back door and she jumped in. He slid back in the driver's seat and merged back into traffic.

"You okay?" he asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

"Just wet," she assured him. "Thanks for the lift."

"No problem. You want me to take you home?"

"No," she replied quickly. "Maybe you could just drop me...somewhere dry."

His look was curious. "Why not home?"

"I just don't like being there when it's storming."

He nodded. "Yeah. It's a little unnerving being alone when it's like this."

Actually, alone wouldn't be bad. The problem was that her dad might be and storms like this really heightened his anxiety levels.

And that anxiety usually got taken out on her.

"Something like that," she told him.

He made a quick run through a nearby drivethrough and got them each a cup of hot chocolate, then pulled into a parking garage.

"Okay if we hang out here until the storm lets up?" he asked. "You can work on your homework."

When she shrugged, he got out of the car and popped open the trunck. He climbed back in, handing her a towel and a blanket. After drying off, she pulled out her homework and went to work.

Phil pulled out his briefcase and started flipping through paperwork. He glanced back at the girl.

"Do you need any help with anything?"

"Don't think so," she told him.

"Good. I think I've probably forgotten more about math than I ever knew."

She studied him a moment. "I don't think that's possible."

He grinned at her. "Probably not, but I try to do at least one impossible thing a week." He reached back, offering her a package of cheese and crackers. "By the way, I'm Phil."

"Maria," she replied. "But I guess you know that. You're a friend of Nick, right? I saw you and another man and woman with him at my ceremony."

He nodded. "Jasper and Melinda," he told her.

"It was nice of you to all come."

"We wanted you to know that we were proud of you."

She shrugged, but looked pleased. "Nick's doing okay?" she asked.

When Phil hesitated, she looked up sharply. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"There was an explosion," he told her.

Suddenly, she opened the car door and jumped out, running down the drive. After a stunned moment, Phil jumped out, locked the doors, and took off after her. He caught her easily, kneeling down to look her in the face. He could see she was fighting tears.

"It's my fault," she told him.

"What?"

"That he's dead!"

"First off, he's not dead. He was hurt, but he's not dead. And secondly, why were you setting off bombs in a foreign country?" he asked.

"I've never even left Chicago," she told him.

"So how are you responsible for what happened to him?"

"Because I am," she replied. "I'm bad luck. My dad said so. People that do nice things for me pay for it. My mom died because she had me."

"It's not your fault, Maria. Not what happened to your mom and not what happened to Nick. He does some dangerous work, and sometimes things happen."

She studied him, not sure whether to believe him or not.

"How bad was he hurt?" she finally asked.

"Pretty bad," he admitted. "His face and chest were cut up pretty badly. He lost the vision in one eye. They may end up having to remove it. But he's tough. He survived and he's getting better."

"Really?"

"Really," he assured her.

Finally, he convinced her to return to the car where they worked in companionable silence while the storm raged on outside the garage. When it had settled, he drove her home. During the drive, he probed gently, questioning her about things at home.

She assured him that everything was fine. Her dad was working long hours, she told him, and they didn't have much interaction. He had certainly not hurt her, she answered in response to his direct question.

He wasn't entirely sure whether to believe her or not. He finally settled on giving her his phone number, having her repeat it several times until he was sure she had it memorized. She promised that she would call him any time, day or night, should she need anything.

He wasn't sure he believed that either.

After dropping her off around the corner from her building and watching her safely inside, he drove back to the office building to finish up his days work. He looked in the back seat of the car, smiling as he noticed that Maria had neatly folded the blanket and towel he had given her earlier. When he opened the door to retrieve them, his smile turned to a frown as he noticed the folded piece of paper on the seat.

Had the girl forgotten some of her homework?

When he leaned in and picked it up, he laughed.

"Get well soon, Nick," it read. He studied the picture for several minutes, finally deciding that the bald, scowling figure was probably meant to portray Fury. A pirate patch covered one eye. The girl was bright and proving to be quite skilled in martial arts, but she was certainly no artist.

Nevertheless, he would make sure that Nick received the card. The man had barely survived the attack and his recovery had been in serious doubt. Nevertheless, he had carried on, completing his mission before allowing himself to be treated. Sheer determination had pulled him through. Not only was he recovering, he had earned another promotion and was considered a favorite to be taking over the directors position.

He had earned a reputation as a tough hardass, cold and completely lacking in feelings. Phil was glad to be one of the few allowed to see another side of him. He had a feeling Maria's wishes would be appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for taking the time to read. I would dearly love to know what you're thinking about this. Remember, lack of review will make me cry. That's not a pretty sight. Make me smile, please.
> 
> More to come.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks the halfway point for this little alternate background. My appreciation to those joining me on this trip.

Movies » Avengers » A Shared Philosophy 

Author: Still Waters 1. Chapter 12. Chapter 23. Chapter 34. Chapter 45. Chapter 5 

 

The days continued to grow warmer. Spring break came and went.

She survived another birthday, having learned in years past that her father was at his worst on this day. She snuck out early to go to school and took her time coming home afterwards. Climbing the fire escape to peek through the window, she decided to spend the night in the alley with Cedric.

As the school year wound down, she started wondering what to do about her new school supplies. She couldn't possibly take them home as her father would question where they came from. About a week before the last day, she opened her desk and sighed with relief. The new items were gone, the old, battered ones back in place.

The last day of school was awards assembly. Her classmates were buzzing with excitement, looking around for family and friends. Not expecting anyone, she sat quietly, reading. When her name was called, she walked up to the stage, receiving certificates for all A's, for citizenship, reading, and math. There were several moments of silence before some parent or teacher started clapping and others joined in, apparently feeling sorry for the girl.

After the ceremony, school dismissed for summer break. While others expressed their joy at their freedom, she crossed the grounds slowly, not looking forward to losing the small amount of security she found in the routine of the school day.

She sat down on a bench next to a trash can and pulled out the awards she had received. She studied them carefully, memorizing them before reluctantly sliding them into the receptacle. She knew that if she took them home, her father would take great delight in destroying them before her eyes, telling her how the teacher had obviously only given them to her because she was so pathetically incompetent. It hurt less to do it herself.

Exiting the school yard, she slowly made her way home, her eyes on the sidewalk in front of her as she put one foot in front of the other.

"You really need to keep your head up when you walk," a deep voice interrupted her thoughts. "Be aware of what's going on around you, no matter what's going on inside."

Startled, she jerked her head up, turning back to the car she had just passed. Nick leaned casually against it, ankles crossed in front of him.

She smiled briefly, then schooled her expression as she studied him. He was again dressed in solid black: boots, jeans, t-shirt, and a light jacket that she figured probably concealed a weapon. His face, though, had changed. A black patch covered one eye, a series of angry scars radiating out from it. His expression didn't flicker as her sharp eyes scanned him.

Finally, she nodded slightly and let out a very small sigh of relief. He really was okay.

"Was that what happened to you?" she asked, her gaze lingering on the patch.

He laughed, reminded of the spirit that had drawn him to this child in the first place.

"Something like that," he told her, straightening to stand beside her. He nodded towards a vendor with an ice cream cart. "You want something?"

She hesitated. "Anything you want. My treat."

Chewing her lip, she carefully studied the pictures on the side of the cart. He suddenly wondered if she had ever had an ice cream other than the small cups sometimes served with the school lunches.

"What are you having?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Fudge bomb pop," he told the man, pulling out his wallet.

"Same for me," she answered.

They found a seat on a nearby bench. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her watching him as he carefully opened the package and took a bite. She copied his motions, nibbling cautiously at the frozen treat. Her eyes went wide as the flavor spread through her mouth and she took another, larger bite.

He couldn't help but chuckle, even as he thought about how sad the situation was. "Not too fast," he warned. "Too much cold stuff too fast will give you a headache."

She nodded her understanding, leaning back on the bench to finish at a more sedate pace.

He finished his and threw the trash away, sitting back and watching the world go by. He didn't have many moments like this anymore and cherished them when they came. Soon, the girl disposed of her trash as well and resumed her seat, mimicking his relaxed pose. The companionable silence stretched out for several minutes until his phone vibrated, reminding him of the weight of his responsibilities.

He turned to face her. "Is everything going okay, Maria? Any problems with your dad?"

She shook her head. "Everything's fine," she assured him. "Like I told you, it was just one time and it was an accident. He doesn't hurt me or anything."

"And you think you'll be alright during the summer?"

"Sure. He works, I stay busy. We really don't spend much time together."

He frowned. That didn't quite sound right, but who was he to judge what a normal childhood or parent child relationship should be? He had spent the majority of his childhood in the foster care system with others in the same situation.

"Phil said he gave you his phone number."

She nodded and repeated it to him.

"And you'll give him a call if you need anything?"

Another nod.

His phone buzzed again and he pulled it out to check. It could wait another minute or so.

"I'm going to have to go," he told her. "Is there anything else you need right now?"

"I'm fine. Thanks for...well, everything," she replied.

He shrugged, noticing her studying him again.

"Anything you want to know?"

Her gaze rested on the patch over his destroyed eye.

"Did it hurt?" she questioned softly.

A standard denial sprang to his lips, but he stopped himself before he could utter it. With her, there was no reputation to protect. No image to maintain.

"Like a bitch," he admitted. "I just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up."

"I'm sorry."

"But it got better," he told her. "I thought about what I got for the price I paid, about the people that didn't die because of what happened to me and that I couldn't help anyone else if I gave up."

"And you like helping people," she stated.

He leaned close. "Don't let it get around, but I really do."

Winking, he took his leave and she sighed, the long summer stretching out in front of her.

XXXXXXXXXX

It was a couple of weeks later when a knock sounded at the door one evening. Maria opened it to find a woman standing in the hall, holding a clipboard. She recognized her as one of Phil's friends.

Melinda, he had said.

She winked at the girl. "I need to talk to your dad."

When Maria hesitated, she leaned down. "Trust me. It'll be okay."

She led her into the living room where he sat on the sofa, watching a baseball game.

"Mr. Hill?" she inquired.

He stood, glaring angrily at his daughter, then turning to her. "Whatever it is you're selling, I don't want any."

"My name's May. I got your name and address from your daughter's school."

He glared at Maria again. "Only my brat of a kid could still get in trouble with the school over summer break. What did she do now? Is she so stupid she needs summer school?"

Maria noticed a flash of anger in Melinda's eyes, but she covered it quickly. "Oh, no, Mr. Hill. I actually am here on behalf of Master Lee's Martial Arts Academy. We're looking for students for his summer program and the school was kind enough to give us addresses for some of the local children."

"Not interested," he snarled. "I'm not wasting good money so she can have fun while I'm working my butt off to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads."

"I'm able to offer her a full scholarship," she told him. "Absolutely no cost to you."

He considered a moment. "She'd probably enjoy that."

"I'm sure she would," the woman said brightly. Maria's face fell. She knew he would immediately refuse anything that might bring her pleasure.

Then the woman sighed and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I can't do this." She met his gaze. "I'd advise against it, Mr. Hill. Master Lee is a vile, mean spirited man. He claims to be trying to make the students stronger, but he really just enjoys being cruel. Rarely does he lead a class where someone doesn't leave in tears."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Why do you think we're having to offer full scholarships to get students? In addition to providing breakfasts and lunches and picking up and dropping off? And uniforms? Does that sound like a place people are anxious to send their kids to?"

"Sounds like the place will close down," he commented.

"No, it's a tax write off for some investor. He pours in money, the academy loses it." She shrugged. "I don't really now much about how business works, I just know I'm supposed to talk people into letting their kids come." She laughed and shook her head. "As if there's any chance you would after I said all of that."

He looked at her, then at Maria.

"You know, I think it would be good for her. She could really use some strict discipline. She's always been a trouble maker." He considered. "No cost to me?"

"None," she confirmed.

"You guys feed her?"

"Two meals a day."

"When are the classes?"

"Monday through Friday, 8 to 6," she told him. "And one Saturday a month."

He nodded. "What do you need me to sign?"

XXXXXXXXXX

She got through the summer to the start of a new school year. Once again, her breakfasts and lunches were paid for and new school supplies showed up in her desk when needed. At school, as at home, she generally stayed quiet, more a watcher than a participant, knowing that drawing attention to oneself usually had negative consequences.

That continued to work well for her until a few months into the new school year. She woke up one morning, tired and achy. Her throat hurt, her head hurt, and her stomach felt queasy. When she mentioned it to her father, he glared at her.

"Deal with it. I've got plans today and don't want to deal with a whiney brat."

Plans. That meant he had called in sick to work and would be at a bar with some buddies.

She headed off to school, determined to make it through the day.

She lasted about two hours before making a sudden dash for the classroom garbage can and emptying the contents of her stomach. That earned her an immediate pass to the nurse's office. The woman there lightly touched her forehead and cheeks.

"Were you running a fever like this when you came to school this morning?" she asked.

"I was fine this morning," Maria lied. "It just started here."

"Well, we're going to have to call someone to come and get you," the nurse told her, settling her on the bed with a cup of water and a trash can. "There's a couple of things going around and we don't want you to get your friends sick, too."

She pulled up the girl's records and made a call. Then another.

Hanging up, she turned back to Maria, a look of consternation on her face. "There's no answer at your home and your dad's work said that he's not there today. Do you have any other way of getting in touch with him?"

She shook her head, then had a thought. She debated. She didn't want to be a bother, but she knew they wouldn't let her go back to class. And she really felt bad.

"You might call Phil," she told her.

"Who's Phil?"

"He's my...uncle."

The nurse shook her head. "He's not on the list to be able to pick you up, Maria. Your father is the only person we can release you to."

"Maybe if you call Phil, he can get ahold of him," she answered. She didn't know what he could do, but thought he could probably come up with something.

"I suppose it's worth a try." She wrote the number down, then dialed. It was answered on the second ring, and she explained the situation. When he said that he send someone to get her, she again explained that her father was the only one that the school had permission to release her to. He promised to contact the man, then hung up.

Phil looked back at the meeting he had stepped out of and held up a finger, indicating he would return shortly, then placed a call.

"I need a favor."

XXXXXXXXXX

About an hour later, the phone in the nurse's office rang. She spoke into it briefly, then turned to Maria who was dozing on the bed.

"Looks like your uncle was able to get ahold of your father. He's here to pick you up."

Maria sat up quickly, swallowing down her fear. Her dad would certainly not be happy to have his day interrupted to pick up his sick child. She breathed a silent sigh of relief at the sight of the man who walked in.

Suit and tie. Definitely not her father.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said, patting her on the head. "I hear you're not feeling good."

She pondered a moment.

Which would be worse? Her father, or a total stranger?

Focusing on his face, she finally realized that he was the other man she had seen with Nick.

Jasper?

Relieved, she shook her head.

"You should probably get her to the doctor, Mr. Hill. We're starting to see some flu cases as well as strep and she should get started on medication as soon as possible. She needs to be fever free for 24 hours before returning to school and we'll need a note," the nurse told him, handing him Maria's backpack and jacket.

He nodded, helping her into her jacket. "I'll do that."

XXXXXXXXXX

"I'm Jasper, by the way," he told Maria, settling her in the backseat of his car, he spread his coat over her, a concerned look on his face.

"I know. I saw you at my belt test with Nick and Phil and Melinda. Phil told me your name."

"Phil's out of town right now, but he called and asked if I could come and get you."

"But they said only my dad could pick me up," she asked curiously.

He flipped open his wallet to show her a very real looking driver's license identifying him as Jonathan Hill and showing their home address.

"We have people who can take care of things like that," he told her with a smile.

Suddenly, she started looking around frantically. Jasper opened the trash bag the nurse had given him and held it in front of her. She heaved several times, but nothing came up, her stomach already emptied of the little she had eaten earlier.

"Do you have a regular doctor?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. Dad takes me to the free clinic when I need shots for school or something?"

"What about when you get sick?"

"I get better," she told him with a shrug.

Finally, he slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. After a short drive, he parked and looked back at her.

"I'm going to run inside for a minute. I'll be right back."

He was as good as his word, returning just a few short minutes later and setting a bag down in the floorboard next to her. He opened it up to show her a selection of sports drinks.

"I know you need to stay hydrated and I wasn't sure which flavor you liked, so I got several."

When she just shrugged, he chose one and twisted the cap off, handing it to her.

"Drink."

She managed several small sips and he climbed back behind the wheel. When they stopped again, she frowned at the unfamiliar building.

"Where are we?"

"HQ," he said simply.

He helped her out, leading her into the building. She noticed the curious stares, but took her cue from Jasper and ignored them. After a short elevator ride, they walked through a door marked "Medical."

The woman at the desk looked at them with a frown.

"What's this?"

"Part of an important operation," Jasper told her. "Top secret. I'm looking for Bailee?"

At that moment, another woman walked out of one of the rooms and looked their direction. She walked over and stuck out her hand.

"You must be Phil's friend?" she asked.

He nodded. "Thanks for seeing us. She seems to be feeling pretty bad."

She looked at the girl sympathetically. "No regular pediatrician?"

"Long story, but apparently not."

"Come on back," she gestured to them.

When Maria's face went white, the woman grabbed her up and ran into the bathroom, just making it as the sport drink came back up.

"Okay. I believe you're sick, kid. You don't have to convince me."

"Sorry," Marie whispered.

"I'm kidding," the doctor assured her gently. "I know you can't help it. Let's take a look at you and see what we can do to help you feel better."

"The school nurse said flu and strep are both going around," he told her as she lifted the girl onto the table and started her examination. She nodded, checking eyes, ears, nose, and throat. "Probably needs something for the fever, too. She's awfully warm, but she's shivering with chills. And something for the nausea. She's little enough to get dehydrated pretty fast, I'd think."

"Thanks for your advice, Doctor Sitwell," the doctor told him with a sidelong glance.

"Sorry. I'm just not used to all...this..." he replied, gesturing towards Maria.

She pulled open a a cabinet and started looking through drawers. "Tests, tests, tests. Let's see. Anthrax? Bubonic plague?" She turned and looked at the girl, who shook her head. Finally, she turned, a shrink wrapped package in each hand. "Influenza test. Strep test."

Both came back positive.

While Jasper encouraged her to keep drinking, the doctor called the pharmacy to discuss proper medications and dosage.

"We're not used to pint sized patients either," she explained, looking at her computer screen. "Any medication allergies?" Maria shrugged and the doctor kept reading. "Okay. Seems kids are usually dosed with liquid medications that have to be refrigerated."

Jasper looked at Maria. "I'm thinking that might be a problem," he said.

The girl nodded. "Probably."

After some further discussion, they finally settled on the correct medications and doses and the were soon delivered by the pharmacy. The doctor gave her the first doses of each, including something for fever and nausea and then the two headed back into the hallway.

"I've got some paperwork I need to take care of," the agent told her. "If you don't mind resting on my couch, I'll take you home later."

She nodded and did exactly that, dozing restlessly under his coat. He checked her fever from time to time, waking her up to encourage her to drink more.

He texted Fury, Melinda, and Phil, letting them know the diagnosis and treatment plan. Later that afternoon, Nick called for an update.

"Phil said that the school called? Kid's sick?"

"Poor girl has the flu and step," Jasper told him. "We've gotten her started on some medication. The doctor said other than that, rest and fluids."

"What's the plan for getting her the medicine?" Nick questioned. "I don't trust her father to make sure she gets what she needs and the neighbor who was helping isn't there any longer."

Mrs. Crowley's son had finally convinced her to pack up and leave the city's brutal winters behind. Instead, the agents had taken over one of the larger mailboxes usually reserved for packages. Her warm clothes were stowed there so that she could change as needed.

"Yeah, from what Melinda said, he doesn't seem overly concerned with her well being." He continued. "I'm still waiting on medical clearance to get out from behind the desk again." He took a deep breath, feeling the twinge of pain where a knife had slipped between his ribs several weeks back. "I'll be able to stop by her place a couple of times a day, check up on her and make sure she gets it."

"Good."

Jasper debated a moment, glanced at the hopefully sleeping girl. then decided to push forward. "Have we looked at the possibility of having her taken away from him?" he asked quietly. "We could still keep an eye on her in foster care but she would probably be in a better situation?"

"Possibly, but possibly not," Fury replied with a sigh. "How much do you know about the foster care system, Sitwell?"

"That they're a safety net for kids who are in bad situations."

"Ideally, yes," the other man told him. "And it may be that way most of the time. I like to think so. But I know from personal experience that it doesn't always work out that way. They're overworked and underfunded and sometimes, the kids end up in a worse situation than they were taken out of and no one knows until it's too late. I'd just rather keep a close eye in her situation. If it's primarily just a lack of personal attention, I don't really think a foster placement will help. If we're seeing signs real trouble, then I definitely want her out."

"Of course. Real trouble being what, sir?"

There was a pause on the line. "Physical abuse. Life in danger. I don't really know, Jasper. I'm not well versed in family relationship stuff."

"Me, either," the other man admitted, thinking of growing up with his elderly grandfather. His needs had always been met, but he had always felt something lacking.

"Thanks for your help on this, Sitwell."

"Glad to be a part of it, sir," he replied, gazing at the girl curled up under his coat.

XXXXXXXXXX

The girl made a full recovery, heading back to school with a note from her 'father' requesting that her absences be excused.

Time passed and certain traditions developed among the group. At least one of the adults would usually make an appearance whenever she had some event or awards. Supplies would somehow appear when she needed them.

A pair of good running shoes appearing in her locker when she decided to go out for track.

A package of sports bras in her dresser when she started developing.

She really hoped Melinda had picked those out.

Her first period, though, caught her unprepared. The school nurse gave her supplies, but chided her for not having something with her.

"Your mom should have made sure you were prepared for this," she chided.

"Yeah? Well, we don't talk much, seeing as how she's dead," Maria shot back as she walked out of the office. Once her frustration had cooled, she started thinking.

She had learned long ago the futility of asking her dad for money for anything, even if this was something she could talk to him about.

She didn't have friends that she could borrow from. She considered leaving a note in her locker or in the mailbox, but the need was immediate and she wasn't sure when one of the others might check. Besides, there was no guarantee it would be Melinda.

As much as she hated the idea, the only other option she could think of was to steal. Other girls would laugh in the locker room or bathroom, excitedly showing off things they had shoplifted.

Usually makeup or perfume or some other useless something.

On her way home from school that day, she calmly walked into a drug store that was on her way. She had no other choice, she told herself, and she would pay the store back when she could.

Deep breath.

She walked the aisle, selecting a small package and smoothly sliding it under her jacket. After glancing around to be sure no one had observed, she walked back to the main aisle and headed towards the door.

A cough caught her attention. Looking up, she found a single eye glaring at her.

Nick.

He couldn't possibly have seen her. She would have noticed him.

She tried to assume a nonchalant pose, but he kept watching, his gaze sliding down to rest on the slight bulge under her jacket.

His brow rose, then he looked up at the marker for the aisle she had just exited. Without changing his expression, he pulled his wallet out of his jacket, removed a bill, walked over and slipped it into her hand before walking out.

The next day, she found an envelope in her locker with several bills in it.

'For emergencies,' it read in a strong hand.

She rarely had to make use of it, but when she did, it was immediately replenished.

The last day of school was another tradition. Always, Nick would be waiting for her. They shared fudge bomb pops and conversation on a park bench. Some of the encounters were brief, sometimes they had more time, but the times were always treasured by both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this. I'm hoping you deem it time well spent. I do wish to make it clear that I have no issues with CPS. These people have a difficult job that I most certainly could not do. I know that most of the employees do a wonderful job and really do care about the families that they deal with. For the purpose of this story, though, a little distrust was needed.
> 
> I'd love to know what you thought. I haven't had to resort to tears yet (well, not counting the section I just finished writing) and I'd rather not. Crying gives me a headache.
> 
> Until tomorrow.
> 
> As always, my thanks for taking the time to read this. I hope you deem it worthwhile.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time passes and Maria continues to grow, as kids tend to do. She finally speaks up, turning things upside down for her self-styled family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned in the tags that this includes child abuse. This chapter gets into the physical stuff. It was tough to write and may be tough reading for some.

At home, she and her father coexisted, interacting little. She spent as much time as possible elsewhere. The library. The gym. Running at the track.

When he was sober, he mostly ignored her, except for ordering her about.

No matter how much she scrubbed, the apartment and the laundry were never clean enough. When he sent her grocery shopping, he carefully compared the receipt to the items in the bags and counted the change she brought back.

Heaven help her if he found any discrepancies.

She was also assigned to take over cooking duties, through he never failed to tell her how badly she did it. At least, when he was sober, it was only yelling and berating.

Unfortunately, there were periods when sober days were few and far between.

At least, she thought, once he got violent, he usually passed out pretty quickly. Long pants and sleeves usually covered the bruises and she went on about her business. His beatings never really left lasting effects, so she didn't feel like she was lying when she told the Guardian Gang everything was fine.

That was what she had started calling them.

Her Guardian Gang. She had asked Melinda once if they were guardian angels, and the woman had thrown back her head and laughed.

"Angels? Maybe. But keep in mind, there are dark angels as well as light ones."

She moved through middle school, then into high school. She was proud to have earned her black belt, but continued to work hard, knowing there was always room to improve. At her instructor's recommendation, she had also added a gymnastics class to help with her flexibility and timing.

A summons to the counselors office one afternoon had her pondering, trying to figure out what she could have done to prompt the call. The woman reassured her immediately.

"Your grades are quite impressive," she told her. "We were actually thinking that you might be a good candidate for an accelerated program. It would get you through high school and into college in less time. Does that sound like something you'd be interested in?"

She could hardly contain her excitement. Get out early?

"Absolutely!"

But then reality hit. College was expensive.

"You'd have to take the ACT or SAT, but I have no doubt that your scores would fall within the eligibility requirements."

Something else that would cost money.

The woman was flipping through a file. She held up a piece of paper.

"Oh. I see you're already registered," she commented, handing Maria the paper.

Her seating assignment for the exam in a month.

"It sounds great," Maria told her.

"I know. You're probably concerned about the expense. There are lots of scholarships out there and we can start looking for some. Do you have any thoughts about where you want to go or what you want to major in?"

"Not really," she admitted. "Something with organizing things, maybe? Getting things and people working together?"

"Administration, perhaps? You seem to see big pictures."

They spent some time discussing her options.

She left the office with a bounce in her step. Long looking forward to being able to get away from her father, it was a pleasant thought that it might be sooner rather than later. Now, she just needed to give some thought to a major. And a college. And the test.

But she would manage.

Redoubling her efforts, she spent even more hours in the library, studying and researching.

On the morning that the test was scheduled, she found Phil waiting outside the building for her. He had a breakfast sandwich and a cup of hot chocolate for her.

"Nervous?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"Good. You'll do fine."

They rode in silence as she kept flipping through her study guide, refreshing her memory and talking softly to herself. Shortly before they arrived, Phil's phone rang. He glanced at it and handed it to her.

Nick.

"Hello?" she answered.

"All ready?" he asked.

No small talk for Nick Fury.

"Think so."

He cleared his throat. "I wasn't planning to, but Phil said I should call and wish you good luck."

"Um. Thanks, I guess."

He chuckled. "I suppose that doesn't sound too good. What I meant was that I don't figure I need to wish you luck because I know you've worked and studied hard and you're going to do just fine."

This time, her 'Thanks' was more sincere.

Test completed, she returned her focus to her classwork. The counselor had reworked her schedule, moving her into more advanced classes where expectations were high and the pace was rapid.

She not only coped, she excelled. Or thought she did. Until she received another summons to the counselor's office.

"We got your test scores," she told the young woman. "Every bit as impressive as I expected. I'm sure you and your parents were thrilled."

"I haven't seen them," Maria told her, looking at the paper.

"They should have sent a copy to your home," the woman told her, confused. "Oh, well. We have the results now, so we can start sending out feelers to some universities, get your information to them."

She gave it little more thought, busy with school, sports, and avoiding her father.

Her counselor stopped her in the hallway one afternoon. "Have you heard anything back on any of those letters we sent out?"

Maria shook her head. "I haven't, but I wasn't really sure when to expect anything."

The older woman looked puzzled. "I know several other students that sent stuff at the same time have started getting information back. Do you check the mail or does someone else get it?"

"My dad gets it."

"You should probably ask him. He may have just forgotten to give it to you."

"I'll do that."

That evening, she made it a point to be home a little earlier. She hoped to be able to talk to him before he got too drunk.

"Make yourself useful for once and bring me a beer," he hollered when her heard her close the door. She set her backpack on the counter and grabbed a can from the refrigerator, checking to be sure it was cold enough for him.

He was sitting on the sofa flipping through a stack of mail, so she sat down next to him.

"Anything for me?" she asked, holding out the can.

He looked over at her, then at the beer.

"You going to open that, stupid?" As she hurried to do so, he added, "And try not to spill it. You're almost as clumsy as you are dumb."

After popping the tab without spilling a drop, she handed it to him. He took a deep drink, then turned his gaze back to her.

"Sure. You been whoring around and got some money to pay some of these fucking bills?" he sneered.

She shook her head and took a deep breath. "Maybe something from a college?"

At his disbelieving look, she rushed on.

"We've been talking about college at school and we sent some letters out. Just asking for information and stuff, you know? I just wondered if I had gotten anything."

He threw back his head and laughed. "You? College? Whatever makes you think any college would want you?. They don't want stupid little bitches. You know what they want? They want smart people. People like me and your mother."

He took another drink and stood, glaring down at her.

"We both had full scholarships. Room, board, tuition. The whole thing. Then you had to come along and mess everything up."

He started pacing. "Your mother got pregnant. You made her so sick, she could hardly even get out of bed, much less go to classes. She ended up having to drop out. Since she wasn't a student anymore, she lost her campus housing, too. Her parents wouldn't let her come home. In fact, they completely disowned her. Because of you."

After another drink, he continued. "We got married and I had to get a job to support her. My grades started slipping because of the hours I had to spend on the job, so I ended up losing my scholarship, too. Couldn't even afford tuition, so I had to drop out to provide for the two of you. Figured once you were born, one of the other of us would be able to go back and the other work."

Another drink. His manner becoming more and more agitated.

"But then you had to kill her. I lost the woman I loved and was left with a useless, whiny brat. No chance of going back to school because I still had to provide stuff for you."

"Why?" she asked.

"Why? Because the law tends to look unfavorably on people who don't provide food and shelter and stuff for their kids, no matter how useless and stupid they are," he spat.

"No, I meant why didn't you just give me up or something? Turn me over to the state?"

"I've asked myself that every day. Truth is, your mom wanted you and I thought you might turn out to be worthwhile. By the time I realized how pathetic you were, I didn't figure anyone else would want you either," he told her. "Clearly, none of those colleges do. Like I said, they want smart people like me and your mother."

She stood up and faced him. She knew she should just agree and walk away. She always had. But this time, the hurt and the anger were too much.

"It's funny. If you were both so smart, you'd think one of you would have figured out how to properly use a condom!" she told him.

The silence was profound. He stared at her, his face a mask of anger and hatred. He moved quickly, the back of his hand meeting her cheek.

Tasting blood, her fight training took over and she moved into a defensive stance.

And froze.

This was her father. He had provided for her, in a way. And she had opened her mouth, knowing full well what she said would probably push him over the edge.

This was her fault. She couldn't fight back.

He slapped her again, yelling obscenities as he threw her into the wall. He grabbed her neck, cutting off her air supply as he used his other fist to pummel her rib cage.

Instinct took over and she clawed at his hand, fighting to breathe. She finally pushed him away and slid to the ground. As she struggled to get air into her lungs, he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her to her feet again.

A punch to the face and she dropped to the floor, where he immediately started kicking her.

Stomach. Ribs. Back.

She could feel ribs cracking and tried to curl up protectively. He got down on the floor, forcing her onto her back so he could straddle her.

A fist slammed into her face.

And another.

The sound of a crash and a roaring in her ears.

Suddenly, the weight was lifted off of her and she realized that the roaring wasn't in her head, but from the man who had her father by the collar of his shirt.

She started to curl up again, trying to see what was going on through blurry, swollen eyes.

The figure was big and dark and had thrown her father against the wall.

"How do you like that, you asshole? You want to fight, fight me!" a deep voice roared.

She could hear whimpering and the sound of flesh hitting flesh.

"No! Stop!"

"You didn't seem to want to stop before!"

"You can't do this!"

The only response was more grunting and more punches.

She felt a touch on her arm.

"Stay with me, Maria."

Forcing her eyes opened, she looked up to meet the gaze of a very worried dark eye.

"Nick," she whispered.

He draped a blanket over her and she could see blood on his knuckles.

"I'm sorry," he told her softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"My fault," she mumbled.

He looked up suddenly. "Ambulance is on the way."

Moments later, she heard the sirens as well.

"I have to go now," he told her. She could hear the reluctance in his voice.

"I'll be okay," she replied.

"Yeah, you will. I'll make sure of it," he promised.

He adjusted the blanket over her again, then was gone. Moments later, it seemed, a group of men and women surrounded her.

"Can you hear me, miss?" one woman asked, leaning over to look her in the face.

Maria nodded, wincing as she did.

"It's over now. We're here to help."

XXXXXXXXXX

"I failed her," Nick said, pacing the floor in her hospital room. He stopped at the end of the bed, studying the unconscious teen. Her face was bruised and swollen and finger marks were clearly visible on her neck. One arm was in a soft cast, broken where he had stomped on it. She had undergone several hours of surgery to repair internal bleeding.

Though they hadn't talked to the doctors, Melinda had snuck a look at her chart and told them that they were predicting a slow, but full recovery.

"I should have picked up on this," the woman commented from where she stood at the side of the bed. "I actually met the bastard."

"You trusted me to keep an eye on things so this happened on my watch," Phil protested.

"I think there's enough blame to go around," Jasper contributed from his seat. "We asked about home and her dad and just took her at her word that everything was fine. We wouldn't expect her to not be truthful about something like that."

"I should have. Kids in abusive situations sometimes fear change more than what they know," Fury stated.

Melinda spoke again. "Like Jasper said, we can all take a share of the blame. Now, we need to move on. Where do we go from here?"

"Surely CPS will step in now," Sitwell told her. "I can't imagine them sending her home with him after he's done this."

"But can we be sure that that is the best option for her?" Nick asked.

"Don't let your own experiences cloud your judgment, sir," May warned, her gaze not unkind.

"I know," he nodded.

Phil stepped over and stroked her head. "Right now, we're all pretty upset to be trying to make decisions. How about we get out of here before we get caught and thrown out? We can unwind a little...gym, range, ring, bar...whatever... then talk about her future with her when she's awake."

The others murmured agreement, leaned over her for a quiet good-bye, then filed out. Nick was the last to go.

"I'll make this right," he told her.

XXXXXXXXXX

She drifted in and out for a while, always aware of someone in the room with her, sometimes holding her hand, sometimes just sitting.

And the pain. Varying in intensity, but always there.

"Ready to stay awake for a while now?" a voice asked when she finally forced her eyes open. She turned her head to focus on the figure standing next to her.

"Melinda."

"Welcome back, kiddo," she smiled, her relief reflecting in her eyes. "You gave us a bit of a scare."

"Sorry," she answered, trying to shift to a more comfortable position. Pain shot through...everything.

Concerned, the older woman moved to her side. "What do you need? Bed adjusted? Water? Pain meds? I can call the nurse."

Maria shook her head. "No meds. No more sleeping. Water?"

She took a small sip, then laid back, waiting for the discomfort to ease.

Melinda adjusted the sheet over her. "So. What doesn't hurt? I figure that's going to be quicker than listing what does."

Maria grinned, then grimaced. "Laughing definitely hurts."

"Sorry."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Big toe. Left foot."

"Good."

"Right pinky."

"Good."

"Right middle finger."

"Great. As long as you can still give life the finger, it's all good."

She laughed again, using her good arm to clutch at her sore ribs.

Just then, the door opened and a nurse stuck her head in.

"Oh, good. You're awake. There are some people here who've been waiting to talk to you," she said.

When the door closed, she looked to May.

"You don't think it's my father, do you?"

She shook her head. "My guess would be the police or social services. They'll want to talk to you about what happened."

"What do I tell them?"

"The truth," Melinda told her. "Or whatever you want."

Sure enough, an older woman in a business suit entered the room, followed by a man in uniform. The woman looked at her notes, then crossed over to the bed and smiled at Maria.

"Hi, Maria. I'm Nancy. I'm the hospital social worker. This is Officer Cromwell. We need to talk to you about what happened at your apartment a couple of days ago."

She glanced at Melinda.

"Alone."

Melinda looked back at her. "I don't think so."

"Are you her mother or guardian?"

"I'm her friend."

"You have no legal right to be here, then," the woman stated.

"I know. But I have a human right to be here. This young woman has been through a traumatic experience. If she wants me to leave, I will, but if she wants my moral support, I'm staying."

They both turned to Maria.

"I'd like for her to stay," she said softly.

Melinda stepped close and took Maria's hand in hers.

When she failed to stare her down, the woman shrugged and turned to the police officer. He stepped close to the foot of the bed and opened his notebook.

"Can you tell us what happened, Miss Hill?" he probed gently.

"Just tell us what you remember," Nancy urged.

"It was my fault," she said softly. "I knew it would make him angry, but I said it anyway."

The social worker moved close.

"No, Maria. It most certainly was not your fault. There is nothing that you could have said or done that would deserve a beating like this. It doesn't matter what your boyfriend tells you, he has absolutely no right to treat you like this."

Maria straightened. "My boyfriend?"

"It's nothing to be ashamed about. Unfortunately, it happens. A guy comes along. Says the right things. Tells you that he loves you. He hurts you, but then says he's sorry or that it was because of something you did."

Maria looked at May, confused.

"I don't have a boyfriend."

"This scum isn't worth protecting," the officer told her.

"He not only hurt you, he hurt your dad, too," Nancy told her.

"No. That's not right," she said, shaking her head.

Melinda held up a hand. "Let me guess. Her father told you that he came home, found her boyfriend beating on her. Stepped in to defend her?"

The officer and the social worker looked at each other.

"Dad was the one who did this," she told them.

"We have witnesses who saw the boyfriend leaving the scene," the officer said. "Big, black guy?"

"He helped me."

"What's his name? We'd like to talk to him."

"I don't know," Maria told them. "Dad was beating on me. I guess this guy was walking by and heard all the noise. He broke down the door and pulled him off of me."

She could tell the other two had doubts about her story.

"Was the door broken down?" Melinda asked.

A nod.

"Kicked in from the outside?"

"Her father said he did that. He heard the struggle and couldn't find his keys, so he kicked it down."

"That's not how it happened," Maria insisted.

"If this guy is just a good samaritan, why didn't he stay and talk to the police?" the officer asked.

"I don't know. Maybe he thought he had killed my dad and got scared when he heard the sirens. Maybe he has a record or ust doesn't like the police. There are a lot of people in this city who don't want to talk to police," she said, voice rising.

"Why do you suppose that is?"

"I don't know!"

"I think this needs to stop now," Melinda cut in, voice firm.

"We need to talk while this is all fresh on her mind," the officer protested.

The agent leveled a glare at him. "This interview is over now." She walked over to the door and opened it, giving them a meaningful look.

Reluctantly, they both packed up their things and turned to leave. "We'll let you get some rest, but we'll be back talk more later," Cromwell told them. He handed Melinda a card. "This is my number. Give me a call when she's ready."

May followed them out into the hall. "You act like you don't believe her," she accused.

"I didn't say that," the social worker protested. "We just have two very different versions of the story here and we need to determine which one is true. The only records CPS has on this family are very old and show that a complete investigation was made and the case closed."

"Apparently, the investigation wasn't very complete," Melinda commented, turning on her heel and going back into the room.

When she returned, she could see Maria fighting tears. "They don't believe me, do they? What if they make me go back? I can't do it, Melinda. He'll kill me!"

Melinda gently framed the girl's face with her hands. "Listen to me, Maria. You won't be going back to live with him. I promise you that."

"How can you promise that?"

"I don't know, kiddo, but well make it happen."

Finally, Maria calmed down and slipped back into a restless sleep, May pulled her phone out and stepped over to the door and placed a call.

"Nick? We may have a bit of a problem."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much for reading.   
> Mia, here you go. One daddy-ass-kicking, courtesy of Nick Fury. Hope you liked. 
> 
> This was one of the most difficult things I've written. Fortunately, this is not a situation I have personal experience in, but I watch the new and read the paper and know that these things are very real for some. The thought sickens me. I simply cannot fathom the mind of someone who cannot realize how very wrong it is.
> 
> If you or someone you know is in a situation like Maria's, there are options. No one deserves to be treated like that. Reach out to someone. A counselor, clergyman, doctor, friend, or law enforcement officer. Please. You're worth it.
> 
> I'd love to know what you thought. I think there may be one more section, so, until tomorrow...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria discovers the life she was intended to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the conclusion. I am so thankful to those of you who have stuck with me on this. This story started as a simple image of fierce, tough guy Fury encountering a young Hill and taking her under his wing. I was going to spend the first day of my vacation on this little, short piece, then get new chapters of my other stories done. Instead, this kind of took over. I'm hoping you don't mind too awfully much. Now that this is out of my head, I can get back to my other works.
> 
> I appreciate the reviews more than you could possible understand. They make me positively giddy. Favorites and follows give me a warm, fuzzy feeling too. The conclusion is ready. I hope you enjoy.

Melinda pushed the wheelchair down the hall. Her pace was even and unhurried, but she wasn't going to slow down, either.

Maria turned to look at her. "So, the doctor said it's okay for me to leave? And the social worker and police officer? Because they said that they wanted to talk to me again."

"We got the clearance we need," the agent responded.

The younger woman started to respond, but stopped. "Got it."

"Good."

A car was idling at the curb, and Jasper jumped out, opening the car door for them. While Melinda helped her settle in the back seat, he pushed the chair back inside.

As he pulled into traffic, Maria looked over at the other woman.

"Where are we going?"

"Home," Melinda told her.

"Oh." She sank back, sighing in resignation. Of course she was going home. Back to him.

Allowing her head to drop back, she closed her eyes. She ran through a series of mental exercises, focusing on pushing back the pain. She may have dozed off, because when she opened her eyes and looked around, she was confused.

"This isn't my neighborhood."

"It is now," Jasper told her, pulling into the driveway of a neatly maintained bungalow. He opened the door for them, then grabbed the paper bag containing Maria's belongings out of the trunk.

"I promised you that your wouldn't have to go back there," Melinda reminded her. "I always keep my promises."

"But what about the police and the social worker?"

"That's all being taken care of. There's an old saying. 'It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to ask permission.' In this case, your safety and well being were primary concern. We've hinted to the doctors to take a look at your x-rays. Check for old injuries. Then there's the fact that the finger marks on your neck are smaller than the bruises on him. Those marks are pretty clear," she told the girl, reaching over to touch the bruises.

"But what if..."

"The truth will come out, Maria. These people really do know that they're doing. They have pictures of your injuries. They measure the handprints on you, the ones on your dad. Measure your dad's hands. They'll come to the proper conclusions. We just thought it would be better for you to be where you know you're safe and where he doesn't know where you're at."

Melinda led the way up the sidewalk. She tapped on the door, then pushed it open, motioning the others to follow.

They stepped into a large, open room. Phil put down his coffee cup and rose to greet them, giving Maria a gentle hug.

"Good to see you up and around," he told her.

"Up, anyway. The around part is still slow going. Is this your place?" she asked.

"No, it's mine," said the woman coming in from another room. Nick came up behind her, carrying a tray of snacks and a fresh pot of tea. She directed him to set it on the table, then walked over to stand in front of Maria. She looked her up and down, then looked to Melinda.

"Are you going to introduce us, daughter?"

"Of course. Mom, this is Maria Hill. Maria, this is"

"Mom?" Maria interrupted.

"Lian May," Melinda finished.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. May," the girl apologized. "I was surprised. I wasn't addressing you. That would be out of line."

"It's alright, Maria. You may call me mom if you'd like. Or Lian. Or Mrs. May. Or Gertrude."

"Gertrude?" Melinda asked.

Lian shrugged. "Maybe she's always wanted to call someone Gertrude," she commented.

Maria looked at her, then shook her head. "No, ma'am."

Mrs. May rolled her eyes. "Did you forget to bring her sense of humor?"

"Prudence, maybe," the young woman commented thoughtfully. "It might be interesting to call someone Prudence, I think."

Nick snorted and Phil laughed out loud.

"I guess I'll answer to that, too," Lian smiled, taking her hand. "Welcome home. Let me show you to your room." She led her down a hallway and opened the door to a sunny bedroom. There was a bright, yellow spread on the bed and white curtains at the window. "We can redecorate if you want."

Maria shook her head. "No, this is fine." She ran her fingers along the spines of the books on the shelf.

"Is the bed alright? Not too soft or too firm?" Lian asked.

"I'm sure it's perfect," the girl answered, sitting down and bouncing lightly. She picked up a scrapbook laying on the bed and opened it up, glancing at the achievement certificates. "Is all this Melindas?"

"No, dear. It's yours."

"I meant the awards."

"So did I."

Startled, Maria looked down. She studied the awards more closely, realizing that they did, in fact, bear her name. Turning the pages, she recognized all the certificates she had slipped into the trash cans over the years. She jumped up and walked over to look at the medals in the case on the wall.

Also hers.

She turned to Lian.

"Nick brought them over. Thought you might like to have them."

Maria bit her lip, not knowing what to say.

"Let's go back and join the others," Lian suggested quietly. She led her back into the living room and over to the seating area and started pouring the tea, ordering Phil to pass them around.

The room fell silent. Maria looked around, but no one would meet her gaze. Nick stood by the back door, looking out into the garden.

She cleared her throat. "Thanks, Nick. I guess I owe you my life."

"Don't," he said harshly.

Maria's eyes widened and she turned to Lian.

"Don't worry, child. This bunch is all feeling guilty."

"Guilty?" She looked around. "Why?"

Lian reached over and tapped gently on her cast. "Because you got hurt."

"That's ridiculous," Maria sputtered. "As I recall, you guys as the ones who have taken care of me time after time. Made sure I had hot meals. Medicine. Escapes."

"But I didn't protect you when you needed it most," Nick said.

"Aren't you the one who swooped in like a bat out of hell and pulled him off of me? Gave him a taste of his own medicine?" She vaguely recalled the sight of paramedics tending to the blubbering man as they rolled her out.

"After he had already hurt you, Maria. I should have done something earlier. Before anything happened to you."

"What could you have done, Nick? Any of you?" She set her cup down and studied the group again. "You had your lives. Your jobs. None of you were responsible for me."

"I was," Nick protested. "I chose to be responsible for you. To look out for you. And I roped them into helping me."

"You didn't 'rope' us into anything, Nick," Phil told him. "You offered an opportunity and I took you up on it."

"We all chose to be a part of this," Melinda said.

"Willingly and gladly," Jasper added.

"But why? Why were you interested in me?"

"Because you said you didn't like bullies," Nick reminded her.

She still looked confused. Melinda scooted forward in her chair and leaned towards the younger woman. "The work we do helps people, Maria. We help keep them safe. Protect them from bullies that they may not even know want to hurt them. So much of it no one ever even sees. We know, and it's enough. But sometimes, it's hard to remember that the masses are made up of individuals. With you, we could all remember that even something we see as a little thing can make a big difference in someones life. You helped us stay in touch with our human side, Maria."

"Your spirit touched us and we wanted to try to make things a little easier for you," Phil said.

"And you did," she told them. "All of those things that seemed little to you? The school supplies? The coats? The fudge bomb pops? Those were so big to me. They made my life bearable. Those are the thoughts that got me through the tough times. When he was drunk. When it was cold because hadn't paid the bill and the heat was off. I knew that there was good in the world."

"But you shouldn't have had those tough times, Maria."

"Why not? Everyone has tough times to one degree or another. I'm sure you all did. It's all those things that make you who you are. The good and the bad."

"But yours was really bad. I should have gotten you out of that situation,"

"Into what?"

Nick rubbed his head. "I don't know. Phil mentioned CPS. So did Jasper. I resisted. Maybe if we had gotten them involved...made them aware of your situation."

She shook her head. "No. In my neighborhood. CPS was like the boogeyman. Adults told us that if we misbehaved, they'd call CPS to come and take us off to the work farms. There were a couple of kids that got taken and no one ever heard from them again. I know now that they probably got put in a better situation, but back then? That scared us. If CPS showed up, you said whatever you needed to so that they didn't take you away."

"Besides, you all asked me about him. Every time I saw any of you, you asked how things were with my dad. I knew what you were asking and I chose to lie. I was afraid of what might happen. I chose to stay in that situation."

"You were a child."

She walked over to look Nick directly in the eye. "If you're going to blame yourselves, I can blame myself, too," she insisted stubbornly.

He shook his head, but she continued to glare. "Again. My choice." She looked to Phil. Then Melinda. Then Jasper. And finally back at the older man.

He finally snorted. "Stubborn brat."

Funny. The term had stung coming from her father but sounded rather affectionate from Nick.

Lian set her cup down with a clink.

"Good. Now that that's settled, we need to talk about school."

Maria's face fell and she shrugged. "I don't think it really matters. None of the colleges I wrote to seem to be interested in me."

Nick caught her arm as she turned to walk away.

"Actually, they are." He reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a thick stack of envelopes. "I found these in the trash can in your father's bedroom." He held them out. "They're thick ones, too."

She gave him a stunned look, slowly reaching out as though fearing they would disappear. Taking them, she stared in wonder for a moment, then dropped to the floor. She carefully tore into one, quickly reading through it before opening the next. With each letter, her smile became broader. Finally, she looked up.

"They want me," she said in wonder.

"Course they do. Smart people at colleges," he replied gruffly.

"But that's only if you finish your high school work," Lian reminded her.

The excitement left her face. "How am I going to do that? Will I transfer to a school here?"

"Lucky for you, I have my teaching credentials," Mrs. May told her. She pointed to a desk. "We have your textbooks and a computer. I also have a studio in the back that Melinda used to use so you can continue to work on your physical training as well. I'd be willing to bet we'll get you through all this even before your accelerated program would."

XXXXX

That was a bet Lian May would have won. Her method of teaching and Maria's method of learning meshed perfectly and it seemed like no time before the expressions of interest from colleges became acceptance letters and scholarship offers.

She applied the same drive and determination to her university work and it seemed like no time before graduation was in sight. Though most of her new family had moved on to different cities and different positions, they had assured her that they were all excited to watch her cross the stage.

Nick, particularly, had become very busy. His phone seemed to constantly buzz when they were together, but he seemed to have no problem glancing at it, then putting it away.

"I need this Maria. You keep me sane and focused," he told her as he sat across from her at Lian's kitchen table one night.

"Have you figured out what you're doing after graduation?" he asked.

She shook her head pointing at the papers she had spread across the table's surface. "There was a job fair at school a few days ago. I talked to a bunch of people. Passed out a lot of resumes. These are the ones that I was kind of interested in and was going to think about setting up interviews with."

He leaned forward to get a closer look at the papers.

"GE. Ford Motors. Goliath National Bank. Stark Industries. Pretty impressive names."

"Yeah. The guy from Stark was practically drooling over my resume. Said I looked like exactly the kind of person they liked to bring in." She frowned. "He seemed okay, but Tony Stark was there, too."

"You didn't like him?"

"He seemed kind of flaky. He was flirting. Not just with me. With all the women stopping by. I just didn't get the impression he takes things very seriously," she told him.

"So, no Stark Industries?"

"I don't know that I really want to go into the corporate world."

"What are your other options, then?"

"Military," she answered. "There were recruiters there from all branches." She laid the information packets on the table one by one. "Army. Navy. Air Force. Marines. Coast Guard. Also, the FBI, CIA, and Secret Service." She got to the bottom of her stack and frowned. "I don't remember this one," she commented softly.

"Which one?" Mrs. May asked.

"Something called 'SHIELD'? I don't remember a representative from a group by that name."

Lian looked at Nick, but he didn't return her gaze.

Maria finally looked up. "Have you heard anything about them?" When they both shrugged, she rolled her eyes "Look, I know you're all involved in top secret spy sort of stuff. Is this an organization that you've heard about?"

"Yes, I've heard some about them," the woman admitted. "Like most groups of that nature, they've got their good and their bad. I think you'd do well with them, but I think you'd do well just about any place they're smart enough to put you in charge."

"Suppose it couldn't hurt to talk to them," she shrugged, putting the pages in her 'maybe' pile.

It was several weeks later when Nick opened the file on his desktop,

'New Candidates for Academy Admission' it was titled.

He skimmed through the bios and notes from the interviewers, approving most, marking a few for further review. He stopped, breath catching in his throat. He had been expecting this, but seeing it for real was giving him second thoughts.

Maria Christine Hill.

She had scored quite high on all assessments, physical and academic. He looked at the notes.

Bright. Quick to grasp new ideas and concepts. Strong willed. Decisive. Definite leadership qualities. Well organized. Brusque and to the point.

He smiled. The interviewer had certainly read her well.

But what to do about her?

In spite of what Lian thought, he hadn't been the one to give her the information about SHIELD. He would bet that was Sitwell's doing. While he had no doubt that she would be an asset, he wasn't sure about sentencing her to this life. He knew the dangers, the risks. It had it's rewards, but it was a difficult life.

Rejecting her application would be doing her a favor, actually. Giving her a chance for a normal life. A life with family and friends and regular hours and maybe even a pet, he thought, looking at his fishtank, empty since the last one had perished from lack of attention.

But she was an adult. It was her choice to make, and taking that choice away from her made him no better than her father. Putting aside his personal reservations, he had to admit that she and SHIELD would be a good fit.

He also had to admit to a flash of pride when he clicked to accept her application. He liked to think that he had played a part in her becoming the woman she was.

XXXXX

He thought he did well, acting surprised when she gave them all the news about being accepted into the SHIELD academy.

"You're sure that's what you want?" Phil asked her.

She nodded. "I did some reading, talked to the interviewer. It seems like it's the organization most in line with what I want to do. Of course, they said that the majority of people who start the training aren't able to finish it, so..."

"Do you think that will be a problem for you?" Jasper asked.

Hesitating only a moment, she squared her shoulders and shook her head. "No. I can do this."

 

Her confidence proved well founded. As usual, she threw herself completely into every aspect of her training, earning top marks in academics as well as physical classes.

She was catching her breath after a particularly hard workout. Her instructor was making some notes, discussing her performance with her when a supervisor joined them.

"How's she doing?"

"Very well," the instructor replied. "I'm thinking we may see some of May's records fall."

Maria's head popped up. "May?"

"Agent Melinda May," he confirmed. "It's been a while since she was here, but she's still one of the best we've ever had." He pointed towards towards the 'Wall of Honors.' "She still holds most of the records in the women's division."

She walked over, studying the wall. Sure enough, 'M. May' appeared numerous times on the records plaques as well as being a top performer in multiple categories during her time at the academy.

She moved over to study the men's section of the wall.

"So, why do they have separate awards for the men and women?" she asked, skimming through the names.

"That question has been asked several times in the last few years," the instructor told her.

"Usually by the women," the supervisor added.

There. Sitwell, J.

"It's been discussed and dismissed."

"Usually by the men. They don't think it would be fair."

"Because some of them would lose their records if they had to compete with the women?" Maria commented.

Coulson, P.

"Very likely."

There.

"Fury," she murmured.

"Yeah. Our esteemed director was a standout from the very start.."

"Director?"

"Yes, Nick Fury took over as director of SHIELD several years ago."

Later that night, she called him.

"How's the training going, Maria?" he asked.

"What? You don't get regular updates, Director Fury?"

There was a moment of silence, then he cleared his throat.

"Yeah. About that."

"You, Phil, Melinda and Jasper? You're all SHIELD?"

"We are."

"And you run everything?"

"More or less."

"Just one question. Is that how I got accepted?"

"Absolutely not!," he answered immediately. "If anything, I was tempted to reject you because I know what this life can take from you."

"I'm an adult, Nick. This is my decision."

"I know. I also know that you will make an excellent SHIELD agent and that is why you are currently where you are, Ms Hill. Your success or your failure is entirely in your hands."

"Thank you, sir," she told him. "I guess I'll see you at graduation."

"I have no doubt you will," he agreed. "No doubt at all."

 

Only a very few in the audience who were listening closely heard the extra note of pride in the voice of Director Nick Fury when he announced the name of one particular graduate. Three agents stood in the back of the room, watching with approval as each student crossed, the stage.

They had all dined at the May house the night before, celebrating the accomplishment of the young woman who had found a place in their lives and hearts. There were a few tears shed as she told them how much difference they had made in her life and they told her how proud they were of her. This was a safe place where they could share and express the emotions that could not be shown publicly.

When Maria's name was called, Phil heard a sniff coming his right. He pulled a packet of tissues from his pocket and handed to Melinda with a knowing grin. She glared at him, then passed it to Jasper on her other side. He took of his glasses, wiping his eyes before blowing his nose and passing the package back to Melinda. She handed it back to Phil. Before he could put it back in his pocket, she reached over and pulled one out.

"Something in my eye," she muttered.

He gave her a surreptitious hug.

"Yeah. Something in the air in here," he agreed.

After the ceremony, the new agents crowded around their training supervisors who were passing out envelopes containing their new assignments. Maria accepted hers and stepped aside to open it.

"Director Fury's office," it read.

She folded it and tucked it into her pocket, then headed into the maze of corridors, ending up at the door to his office She knocked lightly.

"Enter."

Crossing the large expanse of carpet, she stood at attention in front of his desk.

"I was told to report here for my assignment," she told him.

"Ah, yes. Your assignment." He picked up another envelope and handed it to her. "First thing in the morning, you'll report to Agent Sutton in field operations for your first field assignment."

She took the envelope and nodded. "Yes, sir. Will that be all?"

"Not quite." He rose and crossed to a small refrigerator. Opening the door, he bent over and reached into the small freezer section. He took something out and turned back to face her.

"Fudge bomb pop?"

She laughed and reached out to take one. "Day wouldn't be complete without it," she told him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that wraps this tale. Thanks for reading. I really appreciate the time you invest in me. I'm tickled pink about the response I've gotten for this. I had some doubts, but I'm glad you like. My lovely readers never let me down. Time to post and get back to Risks. Or Stroll.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I seem to have a bit of a fascination with this particular character and thought it might be interesting to look at some of what made her who she is and how certain people might have affected her life and decisions. As I said, I have quite a bit more of this already written, so you shouldn't have to wait long for the next bit (if you want more) and I hope to have it completed in the next couple of days. I'd really love to know your thoughts on this idea. Please.


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